Sliding Into Love
by arrowsandangels
Summary: Daryl is happy playing the slide trombone with a cruise ship band. Until he spots a beautiful blonde, with pale shoulders and legs Like That. Then she's all he can think about. This is a happy little one shot. With No Zombies. Not a one. M rating is for language


**I'm trying something a little different this time.**  
 **So, grab your sunscreen and sunglasses, and let's have fun!**

* * *

As the ship pulled away from the dock, headed for the Caribbean, Daryl leaned over the railing, looking down at the tourists dancing to the DJ's tunes. Another cruise, another cast of passengers trying too hard, drinking too much, wearing too little in their determination to make the most of their four days of fun in the sun.

Adjusting his sunglasses, he scratched through the scruff along his jaw. Not really watching the dancing and drinking down below, more just marking time with his band mates, Glenn and Oscar. All three of them trying to be invisible, as they waited to play their first set of the cruise. At 5 pm in the Atrium, entertaining the cones as they waited for their first dinner on board the ship.

At 4:40 pm, with the DJ still wrapping up the on deck sail away party, the three men wandered inside to get ready. Doing 3-5 shows a night, every night, they didn't have to think about it too hard. Or how they worked together. It took exactly seven minutes to get set up. Glenn would make introductions after their first song. Oscar made the first joke mid-way through the third song. And Daryl kept his sleeves rolled up the whole set, at Glenn and Oscar's insistence. And because he always got hot playing. Unlike the trumpet and sax, his slide trombone was an active instrument.

At precisely 5 pm, barely settled behind his mic, Glenn was welcoming the crowd. Oscar was looking at him sideways waiting for Daryl to hit the first note as they slid into their first song. Same first song, of the first set, the first night of every trip. Playing by habit. A crowd beginning to gather as the sounds of the three instruments filled the space. Daryl barely listened as they finished their first song and Glenn introduced them. Instead, putting on a grimace that passed as a smile and waving a little two finger wave on cue.

"Blah, blah, blah… From Atlanta, Georgia… Blah, blah, blah… The Badd Apple Brass… Blah, blah, blah…. Oscar on Sax, Daryl on Slide Trombone, I'm blah, blah, blah…" And they swung into the next song.

Seamlessly moving through their set, the crowd warmed up, growing more animated. A small girl danced with her dad, an older couple with smooth moves took the center of the floor, and… That's when he saw her. Blonde hair, skin like a puddle of cream, and legs that… _Fuck._ For the first time in three years of contracts on various cruise ships, Daryl missed a note. Sliding past the D into D sharp. Earning him a glance from Oscar, and raised eyebrows from Glenn.

He couldn't have told them how he finished the set. Did he tell his joke? Did he miss another note? He could have played for an hour or… Well only an hour, because that was how long their set was. And he was playing strictly from habit, hell he wasn't even sure he kept playing, his eyes never leaving the tiny blonde with the long legs. Who seemed to be looking back. Until they finished their set.

Confident he had made eye contact, he turned. Just long enough to rest his trombone on its stand, hoping that when he turned back around she would be waiting to talk to him. He shoved a mint in his mouth, combed his fingers through his too long hair, and spun back around on his heel. But, she wasn't waiting, she wasn't sitting at her table, she wasn't in the crowd. She was just gone.

Craning his neck, he stared past a matronly woman who was waiting to say hello. And how much she enjoyed the music. Probably hoping he would smile back, even flirt a little. Daryl never saw her, he was too busy looking for the petite blonde. Who had disappeared. Well, she was just a passenger. Nothing could have come of it. And they were on ship, headed towards Nassau, there were only so many places she could go. Why'd he bother with the fucking mint, never done that before. Not to talk to a cone. Yep, need to focus on getting the job done, and forget this bullshit. Except, two and a half hours later, at their next show, there she was again. Sitting in the back. Alone. Smiling at him. _Oh fuck._

"Hey, you in there?" Glenn was jabbing him in the ribs between songs. "What's going on with you? You sick?"

Shaking his head, looking over the top of the slide. She had a frozen pink drink. And she was sucking a little off her finger. He was pretty sure he was going to have to start chasing his eyeballs just watching. "What. Yeah. I'm good. It's just a…" Peeling his eyes away, he looked over at Oscar who was snickering into his music. "Shut up, asshole."

Glenn leaned in a little. In a low, quiet voice. "Get it together, man. We got fans out there." Glancing over Glenn's shoulder, he spotted a table of heavily made up, middle aged women, sitting front and center. Silly from their drinks, laughing to loud. Waving. _Same shit every week_. Groaning into his mouthpiece, they were starting the next song. Studiously avoiding the front table, Daryl looked back at where the blonde had been sitting. But all that was there was an empty glass. He didn't see her again that night.

The next day was a sea day. Sleeping in after a late night playing in the main night club, Daryl found himself restlessly wandering the public areas. Sunglasses firmly in place, he continually scanned the crowds for a glimpse of blonde hair. Her blonde hair. Silently bitching to himself. _Only so many places to be_. _Why do I keep seeing the same people, I don't want to see, over and over. But her..._

It wasn't until early evening, half way through their first set in the Atrium, when he spotted her. At a table in the back. Delicate blonde hair floating around her face, and _fuck, those eyes. How didn't I see those eyes?_ He couldn't look away. Blonde hair framing her face, huge, bottomless blue eyes looking up at him. And Glenn and Oscar, and back at him. Mostly at him. Until he forgot what he was even supposed to be playing. Praying that his subconscious would keep him on track. While he stared at those pale shoulders. Avoiding the looks he knew Glenn and Oscar were shooting him when he slid past C into D flat. Afraid to look away, because she might disappear. Again.

Finally, set over, he stuffed his trombone on the stand. Grabbed the mints from his case, shoved two in his mouth, and looked back… At her empty table. Pushing past his band mates, he reached the deserted table before her empty glass could be picked up by a waiter. An outline of red lipstick clinging to the top edge. _What the hell is wrong with me. I got a job to do. Fuck this._ And he was stomping off, shouldering past guests who were waiting to talk to him.

They finished the night, well it was actually early morning when they finished, by playing three sets in the main night club. Blending their horns with the ship's pop rock group to create a Chicago sound. It was different, but still mostly doable on autopilot. Daryl had finally given up watching the crowd for her. Silently vowing to start looking again the next day. Ignoring the snorting and looks and outright questions from Glenn and Oscar. _Never paid any mind to any cone before. What's with this one._ _Ain't even talked to her. Gotta quit this shit._

Last set almost over, there were only three songs left. Daryl was barely listening to the noise from the front man of the pop rock group. He missed hearing him say there would be another singer sitting in on the next song. That the other group had insisted she sing one song with them after hearing her sing karaoke the night before. Eyes glazing as he waited for the drummer to cue them, while he desperately ignored the cluster of women teetering on the edge of the dance floor in their too tight, too short skirts, their panties in their cabin. Winking, waving, and sending drinks to the band. _Again. Every fuckin' cruise._

And he was playing, just a bit of the intro, then the Badd Apple Brass laid off and sang back up for the pop rock front man. Well, Glenn and Oscar sang back up, he mostly just moved his lips. Nobody wanted to hear him sing. But, somebody was singing. Somebody good was singing that crappy Beach Boys Kokomo shit. Halfheartedly looking over to where the front man was singing, he saw her. The petite blonde, with the pale shoulders. Holding a microphone, swaying with the music and singing. _Damn, she's good_. Making their vocals sound 200% better. Wearing a zip up the front black top with thin straps. A top so short it revealed two inches of creamy skin above her shorts, more when she raised the microphone. _Oh fuck me._ Even the band was watching her. Finishing the set just got interesting.

But she only sang the one song. Daryl's eyes followed her as she walked through the crowd on the dance floor. And when she glanced back over her shoulder to look at him, just him. Well he was pretty sure it was just him. He couldn't help smiling around his mouthpiece at her, nodding just a bit. Mostly with his eyebrows. _Two more songs, we're done_. _Finally get a chance to talk to her._ Suddenly aware of Glenn and Oscar's eyes burning into him. _Fuck, am I playin'._ He was, just not the right song. Or, really any song.

Finally, FINALLY the set was over, his trombone on its stand, shoving three mints in his mouth, combing his hair back with his fingers, he started towards her… Empty table. All that was left was her empty drink glass, with red lipstick clinging to the edge. With a quiet groan he ran his finger around the inside edge of the glass, scooping up the last few drops of her drink. Ignoring the women who were making their way towards him, to suck the sticky drink residue from his finger. _Peach an' mango. Tomorrow, I'm gonna meet this girl._

The next day, a shore day, he didn't see her get off. It was too fuckin' early to be up when they docked and the cones rushed for the beach and the bar and the straw market. Instead, he waited a few hours until folks started returning. Positioning himself by the railing where he could see everybody getting back on board the ship. _Maybe see who she's travelin' with. Make it easier to find her._

It was a two hour wait before he spotted her. Even in the midst of a crowd, from nine decks up, he recognized the crown of her head and the blonde tendrils that refused to be corralled. An oversized dried grass beach bag hanging from her arm. His breath catching in his throat, he straightened. Thinking he would head down to deck one, to catch her as she got back on board. _Maybe I can carry her bag for her. Like a fuckin' high school kid_. The edge of his lip pulling up at the thought, then… _What the_ … He saw who she was traveling with. An old guy, with white hair and a white beard. She was holding his hand, laughing at something he was saying. _Him?_ _What is he, like 90? But last night she was… He mus' be her sugar daddy. Fuck that._

Pushing off from the railing, he didn't see her again until the dinner hour. They had a set outside the main dining room, entertaining the cones while they waited for the dining room doors to open, or hurriedly pushed past them. Anxious to get to their tables, like they were afraid the ship would run out of food. Even as their clothes got tighter from everything they were eating and drinking. There she was, walking with the same old man. Still holding his hand. Her blonde hair floating around her face, those impossibly blue eyes boring into him _. Is that… Did she jus' wink… At me?_

"Ssss. Daryl! Stop your staring and get your shit together. You're all over the place." Glenn was hissing at him. And Daryl realized he was past sliding into notes, he wasn't even playing anything. _Fuck. An old man. But she was lookin' at me. And damn she looked good, even with grandpa hanging all over her. No wonder she's out alone at night, he pry goes to bed at seven._

Later, during the last set in the main night club, Daryl was watching the crowd and mouthing the backup words to some crappy 80's song, when she showed up. Alone. In a tiny red dress, with even tinier straps, that was clinging to her in all the right places. For a minute he was convinced that dress was going to burn a hole right through the floor. And take him with it. Breathless, he missed two notes. His mouth hanging open, as he stared at her pale shoulders. And blonde hair, and _fuck me_ red lips. Wishing he could just drown in her eyes, over and over and over. _Ya ain't sneakin' outta here tonight._

After a scowl and hard jab in his ribs from Oscar, he pulled himself back to his work. Leaning towards Glenn, in a loud stage whisper. "Where we at?"

"I told you man, pay attention. We're changing it up, that girl from last night is going to sing again."

"What." His trombone suddenly hanging loose at his side. He felt like he could barely hold onto it. He gave up all pretense of participating with the rest of the band, as they started playing. Because she was singing, and swaying with the music. A Whitney Houston hit, Wanna Dance With Somebody. And it was perfect, she was perfect. Daryl was caught up in the sound of her voice, as it rose. Filling the room, embracing the dancers gyrating in front of them. Her voice seeming to summon him, it was all he could do to keep his feet planted where they were. Until, abruptly it seemed, the song was over and she was walking away.

Daryl ignored Glenn and Oscar's hisses and elbow jabs. Stuffing his trombone on its stand, he packed his mouth with mints, and stared after the tiny blonde. With the red lips and red fingernails, and her hips moving Like That. Who could fucking sing like… _Who IS that woman._ And he was moving across the dance floor, determined to talk to her. To learn her name. And hear her say his.

"Hey." Reaching her table, looming over her. His feet shuffling from side to side, fists clenching and unclenching, like a dark haired, scruffy, redneck hulk. "You sing… Good." _Mints, fuck I need a brain._

"Thank you." Her smile was wide, generous. With red fingernails, she gestured toward the empty seat next to her. "Would you like to…"

Forcefully yanking the chair back, he jumped when it slammed into a chair behind it. Jarring the woman sitting there. "Sorry man, I just…" Ignoring the woman's batting eyelashes, simpering smile. Totally focused on Her, he sank into the chair, never taking his eyes off her. "So, I saw you… I'm Badd Apple, I mean I'm with Badd uh, the band. Badd Apple Brass." _Asshole, she's gonna think you're an idiot._

Leaning towards him, giggling at his addled brain stammer. "You have a name, Mr. Badd Apple Brass? Or… Just a trombone."

"What? Oh, uh, Daryl. It's Daryl. And you're…" _I am an idiot._

"Beth. Nice to meet you Daryl."

"Mmm. Beth." _God I love that name._ "So, you want a Kiss on the Lips?"

"Goodness, you don't waste any time, do you." Pulling back slightly, still sort of smiling, still giggling—a little.

"The drink, Kiss on the Lips. Isn't that what you had last night?" _Real smooth._ "The frozen peachy mango thing." _Fuck, she gonna think I'm a creep._

"Oh, that. It was..." More giggling, which was even better than her singing. "I'm really not much of a drinker. Tonight I thought I'd try a French Kiss."

 _Fuck me._ "Alright. Hey, you. Come here." And snapping into action, he was waving and calling for the waiter. And a minute later the drink and a bottle of water was in front of them. And Beth, _most beautiful name ever_ , was asking him why he wasn't having a drink. "Can't, I gotta play again."

He started to ask her about who she was with. _Ain't sure I wanna know. Maybe I don't ask, an' we can pretend she ain't with anybody_. But before he could get any words out, Glenn was rattling his chair.

"Come on, man. We got five minutes and you were…"

From between gritted teeth, "Go away, I'm talking to Beth." _Hell no, finally met her. I ain't goin' anywhere. Not until…_

Even as Daryl sipped his water, pointedly not moving from his chair or looking up at Glenn, Beth beamed up over his shoulder at him. _No, no, no. Only me. Only look at me like that._

"Yeah, hey Beth. Nice to meet you. He's got another 55 minutes, and he'll be back." And Glenn was tugging on his sleeve.

From between gritted teeth, Daryl ground out over his shoulder. "Can't you see I'm Busy. Now, get your hand off me, and Go. Away."

Beth's eyes flicked between Daryl and Glenn, softly biting down on her bottom lip.

Glenn persisted. "What I can see, is you have a contract." His head and voice dropping, until only Daryl could hear him. "We can cover for a song or two, but then you gotta be up there."

Daryl glanced over his shoulder, and gave him a curt half nod. _Song or two, that ain't near enough time._ Glenn's hand disappearing, he leaned back towards Beth. "So, Beth, where'd you learn to sing like that?" _Tell me all about you. Where you're from, what you do. What's your favorite color? Do you like waffles? Ever been on a motorcycle? Ever want to ride on a motorcycle? Do you like cats? Please can I hang around you? For a really, Really long time._

Their hands were creeping across the top of the table towards each other. Both of them talking fast. Daryl wanted to learn everything about her he could, before he had to get back to work. Everything you could learn with words. Everything except who that old guy was that Beth was holding hands with earlier. With time running out, their hands finally met and when Beth's hand squeezed his, Daryl thought he might forget how to speak. _She's fuckin' smiling at me. Like that. Hell yeah._ "You better get back Daryl, you're getting a death stare from your friend."

"He ain't my friend." _You asshole, Glenn. I like her. A lot._

"Go on, I'll be here when you're done." Beth pulled her hand free, giving him an encouraging nod.

With a final look, resisting the urge to give her an actual Kiss on the Lips, or even a French Kiss, Daryl lumbered back to the stage. The act of picking up his slide trombone helped him get his head back in place. Effortlessly swinging into the current song they were on. Hitting every note precisely. Bizarrely thinking that she might be impressed by that. And still managing to keep his attention mostly focused on where Beth, _most beautiful name ever_ , was sitting. Until she wasn't.

Looking away for a few minutes, just long enough to adjust his music and glare at Glenn who was definitely Not his friend, he turned back to her table to see some balding middle age guy. And his wife or girlfriend? His lip slipping from his mouthpiece a little, his playing stuttered and quit as he stared at the table. And then the crowd. But she, Beth, was gone. _Fuck. I knew it. Gonna kill you Glenn._ He was ready to leave his trombone and the stage when a waiter, the same waiter who had brought their drinks, was at his elbow. Shoving a folded piece of paper at him. It was a note, from Beth.

I had to leave, Daddy needed me.  
We're going to the beach tomorrow.  
Come with us.  
Beth

 _Fuck me. Daddy. That's what she calls him? And she wants me to go with 'em? Daddy's gotta go_. Stuffing the note in his pocket, somehow he got through the last three songs. Gave the crowd a two finger wave when they finished. Even managed to hang around, smile and let a couple matronly ladies who'd had to many drinks tell him how wonderful the group was and him in particular, without chewing his own arm off to get away.

Making his escape, he found his way down to the crew bar on deck one, for a cheap drink before heading to the microscopic staff cabin he shared with Glenn. Who was already inside, stretched out on his bunk, lightly snoring. Daryl didn't bother with the light as he stowed his horn in his closet, and started pulling off his clothes.

Glenn's snoring stopped, his bunk creaking as he moved around on it. "What's with you, man? I've never seen you so hung up on a girl. Hell, I've never seen you interested in any girl on the ship. Or… Anywhere actually." In the cave like darkness of their tiny, inside cabin, Glenn's voice seemed disconnected. Hanging in the air. Attached to nothing.

Groaning, Daryl took a piss in the dark, before flopping back on his own bunk. Rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. Several minutes passed, Glenn's questions bounced in his brain, before he rasped out. "I don't know. She's… I don't know."

"She's pretty enough. But…"

His eyes closed, Beth's face, her smile, those pale shoulders and bottomless blue eyes floated behind his eyelids. _Pretty? She's the most beautiful girl I ever…_ "Yeah, that ain't it. I mean, it was. At first, but now... I talked to her and… I don't know. She's special." _Except for that daddy crap._

"Yeah, well we only have four more weeks of this contract. Don't do anything stupid. You don't want to lose your bonus." Glenn's disembodied voice drifted on the edge of unconsciousness.

"I know. But after this, I'm done. No more ships. No more contracts." _I'm ready to go home._

Daryl did not go to the beach the next day. He couldn't bear the thought of finding Beth, on the beach, with… Daddy. The thought of grandpa, or really anybody else, hanging all over her made his skin crawl. Instead, he spent most of the day cleaning his horn, which took fifteen minutes, laying on his bunk in the dark, and mopping around the ship. Just marking time until he had to go to work.

Beth didn't show up in the atrium during their first show. Their second show was a set outside the main dining room, again. Where he spotted her at a distance. In shorts and loose, casual tank. Face pink from the sun and her hair wild, with blonde wisps trying to escape her low ponytail. And grandpa's arm draped across her shoulders. _Fuck no._ For a minute, he tasted his lunch again. If she spotted him, she didn't let on. She just walked past, her head close to grandpa's, laughing at something he was saying. _What's she doin' with that antique?_

After that, Daryl dragged through the rest of that set, and their next show back in the atrium. Ignoring Oscar's silent questions and Glenn's not so silent questions. It wasn't until the last set of their fourth show, with the pop rock group in the main night club, that he saw her again. He didn't know how she got in the room, she just showed up. Alone, again. Talking to the pop rock front man. _Fuck me._

Daryl was still staring, and not playing, when Glenn jabbed him in the ribs. Again. "Pay attention. We're changing it up." Then the front man from the pop rock group was introducing Beth and the drummer kicked off The Love Shack, a popular dance number for 90's night. Swinging up his horn, Daryl started playing. He hadn't been so careful playing in… Years. Never on a ship. Never like this. But for Beth, he wanted it to be perfect. Because she was perfect. Or at least as close to perfection as anyone he had ever met. Even if she was with _grandpa._

Beth's singing was bright, clear, hypnotic. Harmonizing with the front man from the pop rock group for a few beats. Until, he dropped out and Beth carried the song on her own. The dance floor filling up with enthusiastic if ungraceful dancers. Daryl thought he heard cheers from somewhere. But his focus was on Beth and the music, hitting every single note with precision. And then, as quickly as they started playing, it was over. Beth was walking off across the dance floor, while Glenn encouraged the crowd to show her some love.

"Oscar, I'm gonna…" And sliding his trombone on its stand, and a handful of mints in his mouth, he followed Beth to her table. Not caring that there were still a couple more songs before the set, and their night, was over. Or waiting to be invited before he sat down. "Hey. You were… Yeah." _Like that._ Seeing her had apparently chased the ability to put words into sentences clean out of his head. "So, how was the a…"

"Beach?" Their hands finding each other under the table. He felt himself reflecting Beth's smile. "I missed you. The water was warm enough, I waded in a little. But I wasn't really interested in swimming. Mostly we just relaxed in the sun and we had Sex on the Beach."

Daryl snatched his hand free, choking on the last bit of a mint. His lunch definitely making a brief reappearance in his mouth. _Fuck. Fuck! With that old dude_. "Why you tell me that? First you say you missed me and then… That you an' him…" Unable to stop the words that were spilling from his mouth, his tone harsh, biting.

And Beth, the picture of calm. Blinking at him, looking from where her hand was still under the table, to where he was almost violently shaking in his seat. "I don't… "

 _How could she_. "You just said you had sex with… That old guy. I thought we…" _Glenn was right. I don't know this girl. I thought she was special, but..._

Her cheeks brightening, Beth gripped the edge of the table with both hands. "No, no. That's not…. Sex on the Beach is just a drink. And it wasn't even that good." _What? She meant the drink? So she didn't…_ "And that old guy, as you called him, is my father." Her nose wrinkling as his suggestion sunk in. "You're…"

"Crazy. Stupid. Jealous. He's your dad. Your Real dad?" _Asshole, I'm an asshole_. Fumbling under the table, Daryl tried unsuccessfully to find her hand again.

Their eyes meeting, Beth began giggling, drawing snickers from Daryl. "You thought he was my... Eww, just eww."

Still laughing, Daryl leaned in close enough to wrap his arm around the back of her chair. Pulling her close. Shrugging wildly. "You called him Daddy. You were holding his hand. He had his arm around you. You called him Daddy. Daddy! So, yeah, I thought..." _Fuck, I'm an idiot. But, she's laughin'._

Dabbing at the tears that had started down her cheeks, _that from laughing, or..._ Beth inhaled deeply, her laughter fading. "Oh that's good. Actually, my dad's been pretty down since my mom died." _Smooth, bring back that memory._ "I thought a change of scenery would do him some good. Daryl, I wasn't trying to fool you. I thought my dad would like you..." Her hand drifting across the top of the table, to find his. "As much as I do."

 _She likes me_. Stammering, again. "Yeah, so um. This is the last night. Do you want to..."

Glancing over his shoulder, Beth gave a little nod. "Go finish your set, I'll wait."

The set and evening over, Daryl returned to where Beth was sitting. Setting his horn case on the floor next to his chair. His brain futilely searching for something to say, Beth smiled, a soft warm smile. Beating him to it. "Do you want to come hang out in our cabin? My dad should be asleep. And if he isn't, he'll pretend he is."

His tongue swiping out along his lower lip. "I can't. Staff aren't allowed in passenger cabins. You want to go..."

"Up on deck. Let's go up on deck and find a quiet corner and a couple lounge chairs. Give us a chance to talk and..."

Shaking his head. "No, that's no good. Every public area has cameras. And..." _I'm pretty sure I'm gonna kiss you_.

"Cameras, oh. I may not be interested in trying a Sloe Comfortable Screw, but I am looking forward to a kiss on the lips and maybe even a... French kiss." The color rising on her cheeks as she spoke.

 _Fuck me._ "Well, I can't come to your cabin, but you can come to mine. I mean, just so we can talk and..." _You can have that kiss on the lips, and anything else you want._

With a look, they were out of their chairs, hurrying towards the elevator. Hanging onto each other. Reaching his room, Daryl flipped on the light and kicked the foot of Glenn's bunk. "Hey, get up. You're with Oscar tonight."

Eyes tightly closed, Glenn groaned. "What the hell, I ain't goin' over there. He snores like a lumber jack. Why do you think he has a solo cabin?"

Glancing over his shoulder at Beth, Daryl knelt next to Glenn's bunk. Hissing next to his ear. "I got Beth with me."

With a louder groan, Glenn sat up. Standing he pushed passed Daryl and Beth. "I'll hit up Oscar. You owe me, man." Walking out into the hall in only his boxers, to bang on Oscar's door.

The door slamming behind Glenn, Daryl pulled Beth down on his bunk with him. Laying back, her head against his chest, both of them smiling in the dark. They began whispering, sharing themselves with each other.

The next day, Beth was gone when Daryl woke up. But, she had written her phone number and address on the bathroom mirror, with soap. Finding it, Daryl plopped back down on his bunk. _Four more weeks._

Their contract finally up, Daryl and Glenn left the ship together. Oscar had already found another group and signed on for another seven months on a different ship. Taking a cab from the port to his self-storage unit, Daryl picked up his motorcycle. Then took Glenn to where his car was boarded. After assuring Glenn, again, that Beth really wanted him to come. That she had an older sister she wanted to introduce him to. They reviewed the maps one last time, then pulled out of Miami headed towards a small town outside of Atlanta.

It was a ten hour drive, which turned into eleven hours with a stop for fast food and a detour. But finally, they were turning onto the long gravel drive to the big white farmhouse that had been in Beth's family for generations. Pulling up out in front, Beth was out the front door and in Daryl's arms before he even got to the steps. And he wasn't letting her go, for a very long time.

* * *

Thanks for reading, hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing.  
And if you did, please leave some love in the box on your way out.  
xoxo


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